The greatest thing ever

Yesterday, late, at night (okay, it was really morning, technically speaking), I finished a book. It's my boxer book, tentatively called "Counterpunch" and it stands as a - very - rough draft at 54k.

And it's a thing of beauty. Of course authors are supposed to say that. Partly because we'd never admit to ourselves (or anybody, for that matter) that some books are better than others or that we have doubts if something works. In a way, admiting to doubts makes stuff real. Denying them is a bit like "if I don't see it, nobody will!" and then reviewers don't pick up on it and we go "whew, s/he missed it", and relax, until a better reviewer or a less polite one points out exactly that and why the king is naked.

But regardless of "what's done" and "not done" as a writer, I think "Counterpunch" is the best thing I've ever done, hands down. In part it's because I'm now a better writer than I was even last year. In part also because "Counterpunch" came out in one piece and it's almost perfect. The structure works, the pacing works, the individual scenes work, and the characters work. It's not what I expected it to be - it's what I hoped it would be.

I pushed Brook and his story away a few times and had a rather unpleasant two weeks where I didn't do anything on the text. I hemmed and hawed and freaked out over things like British stories at American publishers (I struggle hard to rewrite something into "American" that's set in Britain and hence written in British English), then I freaked out over royalty rates and release schedules, which led me to partner up with a new publisher who basically makes a lot of effort to please me. Royalties, cover, editing, and "red carpet treatment" inclusive. Contract terms look very favourable to this writer, and I've signed a fair few contracts by now.

The idea is to try several models, several publishers and then narrow things down to the places I really love (and pay me good royalties). More once I've actually submitted the story and have signed the contract.

Back to the book. Currently I'm mentally and emotionally completely drained (and should have taken the three days between the long weekends off, really, to recover from my 16k-in-four-days writing binge), but I'll look into making the usual changes and begin editing.

That means typos and "line editing" stuff, then a Brit check (because some of my phrasing is pretty American, and that's just wrong for this book) - I already have two volunteers lined up for that), and then a final line edit and style check from a seriously hardcore beta.

Then submission, wait, contract check, signing on the dotted line. I'm looking at a November release, hopefully. But in the meantime I'll bask in what I think is a job well done - and I'll hope you agree with me once you've read it.

On towards the weekend

I did show up for work on Thursday, which was also the busiest day of the week. Editing back-to-back for eight hours while kept upright (mostly) by Lemsip and a box of cough sweets is an interesting experience. Don't ask me what I edited - I'm sure I could find out, but I don't remember.

I was invited to attend a "focus group" of one of the military museums in London tomorrow. I *assume* they invite carefully-chosen "members of the public" to ask them questions about the collection and presentation. I'm selling myself as an "expert" on military stuff (which I guess is not overselling), and I fit into the categories they were looking for. I'll get paid for my time, too, but I'd feel weird accepting cash from a museum, so I'll likely invest that in a "friends of the National Army Museum" membership and donate the rest. I'd feel too weird having *them* pay *me*. Museums, libraries and all other noble causes can have my services for free.

The cough has broken, and after a pretty rotten day yesterday, I'm actually a lot more lively today and more together. I can also breathe deeply, which is nice. You take too many things for granted. My voice is husky, though, so my partner addressed me all day as "hey, Croaker", which is funny in a Black Company kinda way.

My team in the bank keeps digging about my writing. The geek factor in the team is much higher than I'd have expected. They know a fair amount, but I'm still keeping the pseudonym under wraps. However, it might be the first workplace I come out to while still working for the place. (I tend to tell my chosen few friends in any team after I've left.) It's not like they can fire me for it - it doesn't affect my work performance and I have three levels of superiors who are extremely reasonably, human and simply *nice*. I've rarely worked for a more grown-up, mature and pleasant place. No back-stabbing - if there are any politics, it's us against the research analysts - and only the assholes there (of which there are very few. But those that are unpleasant, all regard us like a utility... somewhere on the same level as the toilets. Mildly distasteful, a bit of a hassle and generally not something you'd respect.) However, 97% of all analysts are nice, and we have ways of dealing with those that aren't.

I shall meditate on the risks and boons associated with it. I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing, and they know about the genre and even that I'm a sex writer (when the situation calls for it, anyway). It might be interesting to see how they react. Maybe I'll come out with "Iron Cross", which may be the most respectable of all my books. I'll see. Or, as I keep telling people when they ask what the attraction of London is, "it's very hard to be a freak in London."

The boxer story is at 12k.

I'm not ill, I just feel rotten

I'm in denial about my health at the moment, but when I got up and my vision greyed for a moment I thought, "okay, maybe I do work from home today". I don't want to go into graphic detail, but I seem to have the cold from hell. Blood is involved, too. Headaches. Woozyness. It's not the "clutch blanket, hide in bed" kinda cold, but it's bad enough that the last thing I want is to commute, cattle class, into London.

So I'm working from home, surrounded by Lemsip, dressed in several layers of clothes I can strip really fast when I get too hot, and also food so I remember to eat. (Last thing I want do to with a raw throat is eat - also, my body goes "Uh, no, don't give me food, can't you see I'm BUSY fighting those virii/bacteria, idjit.") At least I'm mostly coherent.

On the writing front, "Father of All Things" went back to Carina on Saturday (12. Feb). It got a completely new ending, and rewrites of about 6-7k of text. Which sounds easy, but trust me, it isn't. That book will be out on 15 August.

Then Dreamspinner has just emailed me to tell me that "Scorpion" in now in the editing stage. I expect the whole manuscript to come back to me in the next 4-6 weeks. Working on that will kick-start "Lying with Scorpions", the sequel.

My boxer story (the fist fighter, not the garment or the dog) hit 10k yesterday. It might grow to anything between 30-60k, but I expect it to be in the mid-range of that, so around 40-45k. I'd love for it to turn into a novel, of course, because I love the main character, as random and bipolar as he is. Working title of that is "Untouchable", but I may yet change that.

Then I got a very insightful, well-written review from Book Utopia for "Lion of Kent". While I respectfully disagree about the relative quality of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and "Lion of Kent" (DADT is four years old and I'd be shocked if I hadn't developed as a writer in the meantime, plus, Kate Cotoner is hugely talented and really made the novella shine), there's a lot of food for thought in the review.

"This historical does what not very many in this genre really do for me – made me forget I was reading a historical. It’s not because of the lack of detail to create the setting. It’s the opposite. The story is just so well-realized that it never feels intrusive, never feels like I’m being reminded page after page that this happened a long time ago. It rings of authenticity, which is a credit both to the rather seamless prose and the meticulous structure of its presentation. There aren’t awkward information dumps, or pages of facts that have nothing to do with moving the story forward. I sank into this story as if I was a squire within Sir Robert’s household already, a natural extension of the world the authors created."

Read the rest here.

I'm apprehensive about writing the sequel to "Lion of Kent". It's not just the amount of research or the fact that, most likely, I'll be writing it alone, it's above all the extremely high expectations I have for that book. I'd hate for it to be any worse than "Lion of Kent".

Research for "Iron Cross" continues, but I'm slow on the word count. While I consider 1,000 words written on any story a good day's work, for "Iron Cross", 100 words is good work. I keep wondering if there's something wrong with my outline or plot that it moves so slowly, or if I'm lazy or procrastinating, but I don't think it's that. I may still hit my deadline with that - May.